


I am who I am but I'm not who I am

by Everything4Everyone



Series: Learning the Story [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Guilty Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Guilty Knights of the Round Table, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Magic, Protective Magic, Watching the Show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 17:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19399159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everything4Everyone/pseuds/Everything4Everyone
Summary: Merlin has been suffering from terrible nightmares every night, dreams where his secrets are revealed and something horrible happens. This, coupled with the fact that magic is still not accepted in Camelot, makes him start to lose faith.He begins to withdraw into himself, closing himself off from all others, being a good, quiet, normal servant, and nobody can stand it.So Magic takes things into its own hands, and they begin watching Merlin's past from the day he arrived at Camelot. Perhaps Merlin will heal, and perhaps he'll be destroyed. It's a desperate gamble, but Magic has nothing more to lose.





	I am who I am but I'm not who I am

Magic watched sadly from inside its child, watched as the Once and Future King destroyed him. It watched as he was led up and chained to the pyre, trying to be strong for his King, although said King was the one burning him. It saw the King's hard, cold, empty, hatred-filled eyes and heard its child pleading with the King to listen, to understand. It waited as they left its child there on the pyre for days on end, not setting the fire yet, but dousing it constantly in oil and fat. Readying a bonfire that could harm a dragon, let alone a small, weak, helpless child. And Magic knew that its child would never use its power against the King. He loved him too much for that, and he would burn for this choice. Without its power, its child would burn again, and again, and again, and again. 

Sometimes, Magic wished that its child could just fight back. They both knew that none of this was real, that it was just a nightmare, but there was always that undying loyalty to his King, and Magic's child refused to hurt his King, even in a dream. He burned every night, refusing to scream or even cry out, determined to stay strong for his King, and it was tearing him apart, that there was still a very real chance that it could happen in real life, that his nightmares could come true. He truly believed that he had failed his destiny, that his King would never accept magic, never unite all of Albion.

Oh, how Magic wished that it could do something to help. It couldn't bear to see its child suffering like this, alone, silent, afraid. It couldn't stand to see him doing his chores robotically, rarely laughing or even smiling and hardly ever joking, to see the hurt deep in his eyes and feel the pain deep inside his heart. To hear his cries and screams, to view his hidden dreams. 

Because Magic _was_ its child, and its child _was_ Magic. They were _one_ and the _same_. They had different consciences, different thoughts, different conclusions, but they _were_ the _same_. Magic _was_ the deep, inner part of its child, the part of him that _was_ him, but its child was the outside of Magic, the part that wasn't as deep but _felt_ so much _more_. The part that _cared_ about things, that _wished_ for things with a _good heart_. The part that could _love_ others and want to _protect_ and _save_ them. The part that could _wish_ for _revenge_ and _feel sadness_ when _others_ were _hurt_. 

Magic couldn't feel like that. It cared about the balance of the world, and it cared about itself and its child, its other half. But it couldn't care or wish or love or protect or save or wish for revenge or feel sadness for others. But its child could, and its child was Magic, and Magic was its child, so Magic could _feel_ and its child could _be_. And that was all that Magic wanted.

But now its child was _sad_ , its child was _hurting_ , and so it was hurting. It gave as much attention as possible to its child, taking its power away from others that deserved it less and giving as much as it could to its child. It took a little from everyone, revitalizing its child the only way it knew how. And yes, the child survived, the child stayed on his feet, the child was alive, but the child was not okay.

And Magic knew what the problem was, it knew how to fix it, but still it hesitated. It could mean having its child's nightmares come true. It could mean breaking its child forever. But Magic could keep him from being burned. It could snatch control from its child and spirit him away. And if things went the other way and its child was accepted, then the child would heal. He would be free and happy again, and Magic wanted that more than anything. 

So Magic decided to finally stop procrastinating and just do it. If things turned for the worse it could just take its child and leave, just as the King's father wanted, and they could watch their lands wither and fade without magic. 

Its child wouldn't like it. He would protest that the Once and Future King was nothing like his father and insist that Magic help them, but Magic was selfish. Magic only cared about itself, and balance be damned. If they hurt its child any more, Magic would completely leave their lands, just as the King's father had wanted. Magic honestly could care less if Camelot fell. It cared about itself and its child. 

Its child would fight it. He would argue and fight and protest and beg and plead. He cared for others more than he'd ever cared for himself. He would accuse it, he would feel betrayed, he would scream and cry and try horrible things, but Magic wouldn't let those people hurt its child anymore.

Magic idly realized that it sounded like a mother. Perhaps it should begin calling itself a her with how motherly it sounded. But it was all warranted. They were _hurting_ her _child_ , and she _would not stand for it_. This was _her_ child, and Camelot be damned if they laid even one finger on her boy again.

Magic realized, with a start, that she had accidentally begun using female pronouns for herself. Then she shrugged; she was as good as the boy's mother anyway. She'd cared for him since the moment he was conceived. She'd protected him when his 'mother' had tried to drown him when she'd realized that 'her' son had magic. Of course, Magic had only used her and the Dragon's Lord since she herself couldn't physically have children. She'd allowed the Dragon's Lord's power and abilities to flow to her child, who was his biological son, although she truly didn't consider him the Dragon's Lord's son. He was _hers_ , hers and no one else's.

So yes, she would go ahead with the plan. Nobody that she was going to take was powerful enough to defeat Magic herself. None of them could beat her child if he drew on her power, if he took her into himself as he should have when he was born, until that interfering 'mother' came into the picture. 

She would have to work quickly. Her son would try to hold her back, and he would be exposed if he did it too long. It always exhausted him to hold her back, and this time, she would not allow herself to be contained. 

She would need the Knights of the Round Table. The Once and Future King and his queen. The Druid prophesied to be the King's downfall. Her child's darker half and her sister. The Once and Future King's deceased parents. The Betrayal Uncle. The Great Dragon and the Light of the Sun. The queen's father. Her child's mortal parents. The Healer Father. The First Friend. The Lady of the Lake. And her child, of course. She would never leave her child out of it, as cruel as it would be to make him watch it all over again and see their reactions. 

But she would start in the morning, she decided, looking down at her child. Let him get some sleep before his ordeal.

~*~*M*~*~

Merlin woke up in the morning, eyes heavy with unshed tears. He had dreamed again that night, horrible dreams of betrayal and burning and Arthur turning against him. He had felt his magic there, watching over him. 

As he thought of his magic, she shifted, seemingly guilty. Merlin frowned. Since when had he referred to his magic as female? She had never been female before today. He had always referred to his magic as 'it'. So why start referring to her as female now?

He got up slowly, wincing as the many injuries and scars that he had pulled and moaned and ached and sent pain racing through him. He should be used to it by now. He was so weak. He couldn't do anything right. Helpless. Stupid. Idiot. 

After all, if everyone says it, then it must be true. 

Evil. Monster. Cruel. Demon. Monster. Devil. Helpless. Stupid. Coward. Idiot. Weakling. Servant. And something that he'd picked up from Gwaine, the name that he hated the most. _Noble_. He was a noble. His father had been a Dragonlord. DragonLORD. He'd had titles and land and servants and properties. He'd ruled over his own little corner of Camelot. His mother had been related to Uther. He was pretty sure that she was Uther's sixth cousin twice removed or something like that. (In actuality, she was Uther's second cousin's daughter and had been chased out of Camelot for harboring a sorcerer and everyone had completely forgotten her existence, but Merlin wouldn't learn that until later.)

But, no matter how, he was a noble, and he hated it, because it reminded him of all that his parents had lost. His mother had lost her home and family. She had lost her pride and her reputation. She had gone from living the life of a royal noble to living the life of a penniless peasant struggling to make ends meet. Her entire life had been destroyed. She had been a royal noblewoman with family and an inheritance and lands and servants and everything else that a noble should have. She had lost it all, and now she had to live in endless fear.

His father had lost more than her. He had been quite well-respected and had been a proud man. He'd ruled fairly and been a good man. It had cut him deeply when he'd been betrayed and hunted down for his birthright. He'd lost his wife. He'd lost his son. And, in the end, he'd lost his life. 

Merlin carried around their pain with him every day, just some of the many pains he knew. He carried every hurt that he knew, took some of the burdens off their shoulders and carried it instead. It was one of the ways that he could help this world that was so full of pain and suffering and destroyed lives. His parents were only a few of the people that had been punished and hurt and burnt. His mother still carried the scars on her backs from countless whippings at Uther's hands. 

She carried fewer now that Merlin had taken some of them. 

It was a gift that Merlin had always had, to be able to take the pain that others tell or show him, to take it from them and into himself. And the lightening of their hearts, the old wounds that suddenly don't hurt as much, the scars that seem magically healed... they just put that down to finally having told someone. They thought it was guilt being lifted, that it was the relief of having told. They didn't know that it was him, taking their pain away from them. 

His mother had found out when he'd first taken her pain. She'd been dressing him for bed and she'd found the scars from whippings, scars that matched the ones on her back. Scars that were older than the boy. She'd scolded him. He'd told her that it just happened. She believed him. She never learned that he chose to take it.

Merlin never considered himself to be strong. He had always been a weakling. He had always been a crier. He couldn't stomach death and hated hunting. He cried for everyone. He had been described as a lover, as someone who had deep feelings. He was never scared to admit his feelings or tell the truth. Those were considered to be weak girl traits, things that no strong man would have. He could barely lift a sword, couldn't fight to save his life, and then cried over the guy he'd just accidentally killed. 

He never considered that just because he wasn't so strong in some areas, it didn't mean that he wasn't strong in others. He never stopped to consider his bravery, never considered that carrying pain made him strong. Nobody put much store in mental health. Nobody thought much about mental strength. They looked at his weak, frail body, his ears that stuck out and his pale skin, and they judged him weak and unfit and he agreed with their judgment. Compared with the Knights and the King, he was weak.

But they never seemed to remember that he was born and raised in poverty. He had never been fed enough, and Gaius treated people for free, so he could never feed Merlin enough either. He had never had training in the sword since he was a peasant. The only work he had done was work around the house. Winters were cold and he'd never had enough protection from the chill. He'd been bullied and punished all his life. And there was nothing that he could do about any of it. He was forbidden to use magic unless necessary.

Merlin stood up, starting to head down to Arthur's chambers. His magic seemed... restless, perhaps. Excited? Something was going to happen today, that was for sure.

~*~*M*~*~

"RISE AND SHINE!" Merlin cried, yanking back the curtains to Arthur's bed and dumping water on the King's head using magic. The King looked up at Merlin groggily, before jumping up. "What did you do that for?" He demanded. Merlin laughed cheekily, opening the curtains to the window and fussing with the ledge. Arthur frowned at him. Merlin seemed FAR too happy today. (He ignored the fact that Merlin was this happy EVERY day.) " _Mer_ lin..." He said, emphasizing the first half of Merlin's name in annoyance and irritation. Merlin grinned cheekily at him. "Shut up?" Arthur nodded firmly. "Shut up, Merlin."

Merlin laughed silently as he hit the window firmly in just the right spot, popping it open. The window needed to be replaced and never wanted to open. Arthur had never been able to figure it out, so he'd left the daily chore of opening the window to Merlin, who had somehow figured out how to open it extremely easily. (Arthur had tried opening the window, even copying Merlin, but had to give up. It was just far too difficult.)

Fresh air blew in, and Merlin inhaled the sweet smell of the grass mixed with the sharp scent of the redwood trees and the lemony scent of geraniums, mixed with the odor of skunk and the musk of otter, in addition to the sweetness of lilac and lavender. He loved summer. With his magic-enhanced senses, he could smell, see, hear, taste, and feel so much more. All of the seasons were wonderful, but summer was the one with his favorite smells, with winter being a close second.

Then he turned away and set about his daily chores, determined not to let himself get too caught up in the outdoors. Arthur already thought him lazy and absentminded, so there was no reason to prove him right by staring off into the distance with a dreamy, stupid look on his face. 

But while Merlin was cleaning Arthur's chambers, he felt an insistent tugging on him. His magic was trying to lead him somewhere. Looking up, he frowned sharply. Arthur was staring at him, eyes wide. "Do you feel that?" He asked. Merlin nodded once, eyes wide and fearful, and they turned for the door at the same time. "Call a Round Table meeting," Merlin said hurriedly. Arthur nodded, practically running for the door, only to be almost bowled over as all of the Knights of the Round Table burst in all at once. "Sir. There's a problem." Leon said hurriedly. 

Arthur and Merlin shared glances. "You felt it too?" They asked as one. All of the Knights nodded together, faces unusually solemn. "We need to call a Round Table meeting," Arthur said solemnly, turning towards the door just in time to see Gwen and Gaius enter, Gaius spattered in blood from who knows what. 

To his surprise, Merlin jumped forwards. "Lady Humphrey?" He asked excitedly. Gaius nodded, looking proud. "A boy. Strong lungs, that one. He actually broke a few windows with his wailing." Merlin began to pelt Gaius with questions, some of them seemingly odd but normal, such as the exact time of birth down to the second, and some being odd, such as if he'd been born with his head facing north-northwest or north-northeast. He insisted it made all the difference. 

Arthur and the Knights shared bemused glances with Gwen, who shrugged. "Gaius and I felt it too." She said clearly. "We came to find you instantly. He'd just come back from the birth of Lady Humphrey's sixth son, because the gods know that she needs even _more_ children." She moaned good-naturedly. Lady Humphrey had ten children in total, counting today's. 

Finally, Merlin asked a startling question, seeming to forget that he and Gaius weren't alone. "And how are those two skull bones, the ones that were causing trouble with the others?" Gaius shook his head. "They were still there, but they weren't angled quite as sharply this time, not enough to puncture the skin. I didn't have to perform surgery, but the worst that might happen is that the young boy might grow up with a cone-shaped head, and we all know that is hilarious, especially when compared to the bloody death of newborn babies." Merlin stared at him for a moment before breaking out in peals of laughter. Gaius joined him after a moment. Gwen giggled lightly. 

And then Merlin was lying on the ground, gasping in pain, and Gaius was at his side and the Knights were freaking out and nobody knew what was happening or what to do and the lights were blurring together and nobody could see and nobody could hear and they could feel the magic becoming an actual presence and they were confused and they didn't know where they were and Merlin was screaming and Gwen was crying in fear and they were seeing dead people and they were flying and it was cold and it felt so old and everything was gold and Merlin was in pain and Gaius was covered in blood and Gwen couldn't breathe...

And then suddenly, it stopped. They were in a cave, a cave with no openings. Arthur sprang to his feet, disoriented. Candles lined the walls and circled a long couch, which was in front of a large glowing white...sheet. (In actuality, it was a screen, but they didn't know the difference.) It was floating in the air, just in front of the couch, completely blank. The Knights stood as one behind him, while Merlin sat up slowly before him, one hand on his side like he was injured. He saw behind Arthur and gasped, eyes flying wide in shock and awe and panic, and Arthur turned, drawing his sword in one smooth motion, his Knights at his heels. 

It was a woman.

Arthur couldn't help but stare. She was _gorgeous_. Long shimmering hair that couldn't decide which color they wanted to be and deep grey eyes full of warmth and wisdom and age and... was that motherly love? Yes, it was! She was wearing a simple grey dress and was barefoot, and she was the most beautiful woman that Arthur had ever seen. 

He drew in a breath to ask her what she was doing here, but her eyes were fixed on someone behind him, and she swept right past him. Arthur twisted around quickly to see her kneeling at Merlin's side, eyes so full of warmth and love that Arthur felt his breath catch. Her fingers trailed over Merlin's side and he withdrew his hand, eyes never leaving hers. "You are..." He trailed off, seemingly unable to comprehend whatever he was about to say. The woman smiled proudly, her hair turning a deep vibrant purple (pride). "Yes. I am." Her voice sounded like an angelic choir and echoed slightly, almost as if there was a second voice that was speaking just a half-second after her. Raw power thrummed through it, making her seem almost like a god. 

Merlin tried to stand but stumbled, and the woman had to assist him. Arthur stared, disbelieving, as Merlin bowed to her, head lowered in deference. The Knights were stunned. And the woman laughed. "There's no need to bow, my child." She said, lifting Merlin back up to his feet. The shock on his face was felt by everyone present. Her hair turned pink (motherly love) as she smiled lovingly at him, with hints of red (excitement), and orange (anticipation), along with hints of yellow (fear). 

Then she turned. "Welcome, Knights of the Round Table..." She nodded at them. "Once and Future King and his queen." She nodded at them. They nodded back, still reeling in surprise. "The Druid of Downfall." Mordred, who nobody had noticed, nodded, his face alit in awe. "The Darker Half and her Dark Sister." She nodded at Morgana and Morgause, who looked utterly surprised. Everyone took defensive positions but moved no more than that. "The Betrayal King and his wife." Everyone turned to Uther and Ygraine, faces full of shock. Morgana sneered at Uther, hate filling her soul at the mere sight of him. Fear filled Merlin at the very thought of him. He had heard tales of Uther's cruelty and had experienced it firsthand. He was afraid of the former king. "The Betrayal Uncle." Agravaine looked utterly surprised and shocked to be there, which made perfect sense, since he had been dead before, just like Uther and Ygraine. "The Great Dragon and the Light of the Sun." The two dragons bowed to her, eyes shining in awe. Arthur and his Knights drew back, hands upon swords. Arthur idly wondered when the previously dead Lancelot had rejoined his Knights. So, why were the _dragons_ here? That wasn't a good sign. They could all be destroyed effortlessly.

"The father of the queen." Everyone was stunned to see Tom there. He looked even more surprised. Gwen broke out sobbing and she and her brother ran towards him. The woman smiled at them as she continued, "The Mortal Mother and the Dragon's Lord." Hunith clapped a hand over her mouth, tears shining in her bright blue eyes as she stared at her lost love. Balinor ran to her, spinning her around again and again. "I've missed you so much," Hunith sobbed. "Do you know how hard it was, there without you? I thought you were dead! I wanted... I wanted to tell you... I wanted to tell you about our son!" She finished, gazing into her eyes. "Because I didn't know until you'd left, and I didn't know how to find you, and then I didn't even know if you were alive or dead until Merlin wrote me telling me that he'd met you just briefly before your death..." She trailed off, sobbing. Merlin smiled happily at his parents, before noticing Uther's glare. "You are the son of a _Dragonlord_?" He hissed angrily. Everyone's faces were wide with shock. Merlin didn't even answer, just tilted his head at his parents, who were so obviously still heads over heels in love with each other. 

The woman smiled. "The Healer Father." To everyone's surprise, she inclined her head at Gaius before continuing. "The First Friend." Sadness shot through Arthur as he saw Will. The child had been much too young to die, even if he was a sorcerer. "The Lady of the Lake." The gasp that Merlin let off at that statement was priceless. He whirled around, searching, and then his eyes met with hers and he ran to her. He stopped right in front of her, grabbing her hands gently. "Freya." He greeted softly. "Merlin." She greeted, just as softly. "I've missed you." He told her, voice soft, caring. "And I, you." She responded, her voice just as soft, just as caring. Merlin didn't respond, just gazed at her, love and heartbreak clear in his expressive blue eyes, eyes that they just couldn't help but love. Arthur and the Knights gaped at them, and Arthur felt betrayed. Why had Merlin never told him that he'd fallen in love? Even if she was a Druid, he should have known that Arthur would never turn her in for anything except for murder or something of the like. "And my child." The woman finished, gazing tenderly at Merlin, her hair pink (motherly love), red (warmth), and brown (caring). Merlin gazed back at her, hands still entwined in Freya's, and she smiled softly at him before turning to face everyone. "I have brought you here for a reason. Unfortunately, that reason is not to spend time with your lost loved ones." Her smile was heartbreakingly sad. "I am Magic."

And pandemonium broke out. Uther tried to attack her, Ygraine held him back, Arthur drew his sword and charged with his Knights but the crowd somehow got in their way, Freya's grip tightened on Merlin, who was as pale as death and shaking in fear, Hunith and Balinor instantly gathered about their son, ready and willing to protect him to their last breaths, and Lancelot split off from the rest of the Knights slightly, Gwaine looking over at Merlin worriedly. 

"Stop." She ordered, and everyone stopped. "I have not brought you here to hurt you. I am here to help." She glared slightly at everyone except for Merlin and those around him. "There are memories that I carry, memories of the land. Memories of all that has ever lived and all that lives. The land sees all, and the little it doesn't is seen by somebody." She looked around certainly. "All of your memories are in me, and I am going to show you some memories. Most of you will have very few if not no memories, but others will have many."

She grew deadly serious here. "This is not an option. You all will watch, whether you wish to or not." She held up a hand. "Time has temporarily ceased while you are in here. You shall not need sleep nor food nor to relieve yourself. You won't need to do anything but watch. Reactions are encouraged, but please, be positive. Many of you have lived hard lives, and you shouldn't judge others, even if it was their fault. You are all only human. Some of you might be witches and sorcerers and warlocks and Knights and Kings and servants and queens and immortals and Druids and the gods know what else, but you are still human, whether you be king or Sidhe, servant or queen, knight or peasant. Whether you are immortal or mortal, dead or alive, Druid or spirit. Whether you are part of the Old Religion or a hater of it, someone born with magic or someone with the ability to learn magic, a king or a peasant. You are all human, no matter what race or religion you belong to. However you were born, or what you decided to do. It does not matter." 

Her voice grew steadily louder, but she was not shouting. "No one is inherently evil. Evil comes with the choices made in life. Someone born with magic could decide to use their powers for good, while someone who chose to learn magic later in life could decide to use it for bad, or the other way around. Those suppressed and living in fear and hatred are the most likely to turn to darkness, because they have to live in constant fear and pain. But for all the dozens that turn to evil, there are hundreds more who have done nothing wrong, who stay and stick out the pain despite everything, who watch their friends and family led to the pyre, even though they had done nothing wrong, who wonder if they could be next, if their newborn infant who had started using magic before he was even born was going to die. How would you feel..." 

Her eyes scanned them, meeting each and every person and looking them right in the eyes. "How would you feel if your one true love was driven off and forced to never see you again, and you discover that you are pregnant the day after he leaves?" Some people looked sick. Hunith clung on tightly to Balinor for support. "And while you are pregnant, things start going right. Those old pains are gone. Your scars start fading. You begin finding things that you lost. Water boils quicker, and you seem to be cured of all ills. You feel cleaner, safer. All bad luck seems to avoid your house and home." She swept her eyes across them. "Then your child is born, and you are amazed. They are all that you've ever wanted. They seem to be pure joy in a bundle. But as you hold them for the first time, they open eyes that are the purest shade of gold and smile happily at you. And you realize that they have magic." 

She looked around, pain clear on her face. "What do you do?" She asked. "Do you turn in the child that is the one thing that keeps you going, the one thing that brings sunlight to your life, or do you live in endless fear, forever terrified that you will lose that precious light." Her eyes met with everyone's and everyone saw the truth and pain in her words. 

"The woman that I am talking about couldn't stand to think of it. She couldn't bear to see her child burn. She couldn't. The only way that she knew to avoid that fate was to kill her child herself." Hunith let out a silent sob, guilt still filling her over her attempted murder. Balinor's eyes widened in realization, and he subconsciously tightened his grip on his love. 

Merlin was pale as a ghost as Magic continued, his hands numb from clinging onto Freya. Her nails dug into his skin, and he could feel the blood trickling down their tightly entwined hands, but neither of them let go. "She took the child and she put them in a stream, holding their head down. If the child hadn't had magic, it would have died that day." Her eyes swept around again. "An innocent newborn, not even a day old, and they'd already nearly been killed once. To this day the mother lives in fear that her child will be found and burnt. She instilled fears in them, fears of fire and burning and death. The child is still deathly afraid of fire, even now." Her eyes held untold sorrows as she watched them. 

Freya gently loosened her fingers, attempting to wipe away the blood, only to find that she and Merlin had left the exact same mark on each other in the exact same places. He smiled at her. "Let it scar, Freya," He whispered softly to her. "I wish to remember this forever. Being here, with you." Her smile was brilliant; her heart glowing. "Then it shall scar, Merlin." She whispered back against his ear, and they both clenched their hands tight around each other again. Their hands were pale and bloodless, red leaking slowly down their tightly entwined hands once again. Their nails weren't very sharp but they were pressed tightly into each other's skin so deeply that it would scar. That was what Merlin wanted: a way to remember this forever, to have a physical marker of his time with Freya, and a way to remember whatever happened here, what had happened with the others. 

"We are going to be watching the memories of this child and of the land, memories from the day everything in Camelot changed, although whether for better or for worse is still to be decided." Her hair shone a bright, vibrant, glowing, purple (pride) and her eyes shone with pride. She was obviously proud of what had occurred. "But just as a warning, I will _not_ let you harm _my child_." She glared, hair red with anger, danger, power, strength, and determination. "If I must, then I'll put a shield around him and keep anyone from even being able to get within three feet of him. _Do you understand_?" Everyone nodded sheepishly, some in anger that this woman dared to tell them what to do, some in fear, some in relief, and some in quiet acceptance. Many of them were confused at how she was treating Merlin like her own child. 

"You may sit wherever you feel comfortable. Couches and chairs shall appear as you need them. I understand that friends and family and couples may wish to sit together and we will provide for it. You may rearrange your seats at will. If I must, I shall rearrange your seats for you." Magic smiled kindly at them, sweeping away, indignation and anger still keeping her hair a fiery red.

They ended up with just one long couch. Merlin and Freya still hadn't let go of each other, but they had allowed Hunith to wipe the blood off their still-joined hands. Arthur had sat by his queen and the Knights of the Round Table, and Uther and Ygraine sat as far away from the others as possible, Ygraine sad but Uther furious. Arthur gently clasped Gwen's hand, refusing to acknowledge the desperate clutching of each other that Merlin and Freya were doing. He thought that he was showing her greater love by not hurting her. 

How wrong he was. Merlin and Freya were showing their love by hurting each other, by leaving their marks permanently in each other's hands, four hands entwined as one. Their relationship had been short and sweet, and full of desperation and longing. Neither of them was innocent, and both of them knew death and murder. But both wished for a better, happy life together, one free of pain and suffering and judgment. So they knew that they hurt, but the hurt assured them that this was real, that they were together, that what was happening to them was true and real and that they'd really once known each other. That reassurance was more real than any soft caring words. They were desperate for each other, and they had no problem with showing it.

"I shall show you the memories of the land." Magic said, voice soft, eyes caring. "And I shall show you the truth of Camelot and her successes." And if you say a word against my child..." She trailed off threateningly. "I assure you, I do not wish to harm any of you. My child holds you all in high regard, excepting a certain few, and I would have to restrain him. It is not a pleasant experience at all, and I have no wish to repeat it." 

Merlin paled drastically at her words. Apparently the restraining that she was talking about wasn't fun. Freya squeezed tighter. Magic's eyes were as cold as ice. "It pains me to hurt my child, but if it is for his own good, then I shall willingly slaughter all of you, no matter what it means I have to do to him." She glanced around, eyes cold and calculating. "I do not make idle threats. I mean every word that I say."

And then she stood back, and the screen began to glimmer, a picture slowly swirling into place... a picture of Merlin, the one that she called her child, the one who held many secrets, the one of. And she grinned, satisfied that what she was doing was right. Her child should never have to hide his deepest, most primal part, the part that shaped his outer self and soul. The part that was as true as could be. The part that explained the outside and was the inside. Her child would never have to hide again. Never, ever, ever. He would never, ever have to hide who he was again.


End file.
